


Red Cars

by Delphi



Series: Black and White and Red All Over [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Authority Figures, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Prostitution, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-24
Updated: 2012-04-24
Packaged: 2017-11-04 05:55:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphi/pseuds/Delphi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Severus discovers the power of sixteen and sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Cars

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Consent Play card as part of the April 2012 Kink Bingo mini-challenge. Kink: Authority Figures.

The summer that Severus was sixteen years old, he got into a car with Jim Lumley and, as best as he could reckon it, mostly lost his virginity.

Mr. Lumley was a foreman at the mill—his father's supervisor—and Severus had never really liked him. It was a family feud, in a way. Severus's father despised Mr. Lumley because he made more money, had a nicer house, and because he had played a season for some football club a long time ago and apparently wouldn't shut up about it. Severus, particularly as he grew older, was inclined to show partiality to whatever made his father angry, but while Mr. Lumley didn't appear to return his father's animosity, he always seemed to have something to say about Severus on the rare occasions they met.

"Someone get this poor boy a football!" This, when he was nine years old and trying to read a book at the company Christmas party.

Or when he was twelve, back from Hogwarts for the summer. "You tell your da to get you a haircut. You don't want to look like a nancy-boy, do you?"

A sideways glance when he was fourteen, his hair past his collar now. "Didn't tell me you had a daughter, Toby."

His main impression of Mr. Lumley prior to that summer night was one of volume, mass, and obnoxious masculinity. He was a big man, broad in the shoulders and running to fat in the stomach. A little handsome, in a coarse and decidedly Muggle way. He spoke loudly, usually about football and women, and he walked down the neighbourhood streets with the swagger of someone who knew that the Tobias Snapes of the world couldn't say a word against him to his face.

Not that the rest of the men at the mill were much better. The night it happened, Severus had been pressed into attending some stupid manager's dull retirement party at the village hall, and the noise and inane conversation had been loathsome enough that he'd sneaked out as soon as his parents' attention shifted from him to the open bar. 

It was cool outside, and he leaned against the wall with a sigh, loosening the necktie he'd borrowed from his father and retrieving an herbal cigarette from his sock. It was a hand-rolled one, bought off Evan Rosier before the end of term, and though he'd been trying to ration out his stash over the summer, he'd had the feeling he'd appreciate one tonight.

"Need a light?" 

Severus nearly jumped when Mr. Lumley sidled up beside him. He fumbled his cigarette but managed to catch it before it fell. He gave the man a sideways look, still startled by his sudden appearance, and then shrugged. He had been about to retrieve his wand from his other sock in order to light up, but he couldn't now. "I suppose."

Mr. Lumley pulled out a lighter and held his hand cupped around the flame as Severus warily leaned in with the cigarette between his lips. It caught, and Severus drew back, inhaling a warm puff. A moment later, the lighter flared again, and in the dull glow of the street lamp, a curl of harsher, chemical-smelling smoke drifted towards him.

"Nice night," Mr. Lumley said.

Severus shrugged again, looking out at the empty streets and wondering if it was worth the trouble he'd be in if he simply left and walked home. Probably not, and it was miles besides.

"Do you like records?" Mr. Lumley asked suddenly, his voice a little too loud. 

To his embarrassment, Severus looked around reflexively, certain that someone else was being addressed. When it became apparent that they were the only two outside, he frowned. "Yes?"

He supposed that was a normal answer for a sixteen-year-old boy, and when it came to socialising with the Muggle neighbours, normal was the path of least resistance. Besides, he had listened to records before, and while he could take or leave Muggle music, he didn't object to their invention.

"Our Susan just got one of those portable stereo players. Expensive, those."

Severus didn't say anything, aware that if he opened his mouth, the words 'Bully for her' were going to come out. 

Mr. Lumley looked him over oddly. It was a long, slow look that took him in from head to toe and back again, lingering on his hair. Severus braced himself for a stupid comment about the length of it.

But instead, Mr. Lumley said, quietly: "I'll give you twenty quid if you let me suck your cock."

The smoke in Severus's mouth sputtered out. He stared at Mr. Lumley, who looked back at him with a strange, shuttered expression. Severus's face went hot and his mouth ran dry. He had never had his cock sucked, nor had he ever had twenty pounds in his possession, and while he had a general idea of the various ways one could go about getting the latter, he had yet to figure out how one arranged the former.

A variety of answers flitted through his head, ranging from "I don't think so," to "Really?" to "Yes, please."

"Let me see the money first," he eventually said.

Mr. Lumley let out a hard breath and pulled a crisp twenty pound note out of his wallet.

Severus hesitated. Then, with another wary look about, he plucked it from Mr. Lumley's hand and crammed it into his pocket.

"I'm parked over there," Mr. Lumley said, stubbing his cigarette out against the wall.

Severus followed suit and carefully left the fag-end tucked in the gap between two bricks, hoping to retrieve it later. Their footsteps scuffed quietly across the dark car park. Even Severus, who didn't pay much attention to automobiles, could pick out Mr. Lumley's car. It was a gleaming MGB-GT, which Severus knew because his father had expounded at length about it taking brass ones to buy a new car when the mill had just had a round of layoffs. It was long-nosed and sleek, cherry red by day, and Severus privately thought it looked rather smart.

Mr. Lumley unlocked the doors, and Severus slid uncertainly into the passenger seat. Sitting, his wand was close at hand, and he was ready to draw it if anything should take a strange turn. Mr. Lumley didn't try to start the car, however. He just sat there a moment, breathing heavily in the dark. Then he reached over and put his hand in Severus's lap. 

Severus couldn't stifle his quick intake of breath. He'd never had anyone else's hand there, and the touch was startling, even through two layers of clothes. He clutched the edges of the seat uncertainly, but nothing more seemed to be expected of him than to sit there and get hard under Mr. Lumley's kneading caress.

The sound of two pairs of trousers being unzipped was loud in the cramped space of the car. Mr. Lumley's fingers slipped into the slit in the front of Severus's pants and drew his prick out. Severus swallowed back an uncertain moan at the contact of bare skin.

"Nice," Mr. Lumley said, breathing even heavier now. " _Nice_."

Then Mr. Lumley was leaning over, and Severus nearly flinched at the overwhelming sensation of lips around his prick. His fingernails dug into the leather of the seat, making it creak as he tried to keep his hips from fidgeting. With a vague sense of embarrassment, he realised that his mental image of the act hadn't been correct. It wasn't just sucking, but up and down too. Better than wanking. Hot and wet, making him tremble. 

He looked out the window at the row of cars. His breath fogged up the glass. Mr. Lumley was stroking himself, his hand moving urgently as he slurped at Severus's prick. Severus's hands clenched, and then his eyes squeezed shut. He came hard and suddenly, and he could feel the slicker-than-spit slide of it between his prick and Mr. Lumley's tongue. 

The air was cold when Mr. Lumley let him slip from his mouth, sitting up to pull out a handkerchief and wank even harder. Severus watched him, shivering and slightly dazed, until he was done.

Mr. Lumley sat back, his breathing incrementally slowing. "You've got your money," he said flatly.

Severus nodded. "Yes," he said. "Thank you."

He had never performed a memory charm before, but he had watched his mother cast them on three rather memorable occasions. If someone from the Improper Use of Magic Office came asking, then Mr. Lumley had seen him lighting a cigarette with his wand. They wouldn't, though, not with the only two underage wizards in town both over sixteen, and a grown witch in residence. He slipped his wand out of his sock before Mr. Lumley had finished zipping up.

" _Obliviate_."

The inside of the car lit up for an instant in bright blue light, and Severus discovered it really was that easy.

Two minutes later, he had straightened up and returned to the party, having tucked the rest of his cigarette into his shirt pocket for later. Nearly twenty-four hours after that, he was picking at a dinner of beans and toast as his father sniggeringly related how Jim Lumsley had got so pissed at the retirement party that he'd ended up passing out in his car and his wife had to drive him home. And approximately two months after that, he was sitting on a stool in Mr. Filch's work room, wondering if he could make it happen again. 

It was late September and the first point in the term that called for a quiet study space. One would think there would be a thousand out of the way places at Hogwarts, but in Severus's experience, the staff didn't have to employ wards or guards to keep students from wandering too far afield. All they had to do was refrain from lighting and heating two-thirds of the rooms in the castle, making exploration miserable in the shortening days. 

Mr. Filch's work room was warm and well-lit and far removed from the dormitories and classrooms, sitting as it did on top of the boiler room and old service passageways. Severus considered it prime real estate. It was quiet, not technically out of bounds, and had the advantage of company that kept its mouth shut and was on occasion inclined to fix him a snack. 

That company was what distracted him tonight. This was the most he'd seen of Mr. Filch since starting sixth year, and the man kept stealing little looks at him every once in a while, almost like he was pleased to see him. Severus chewed on the end of his quill, restless and a little aroused. He'd been wanking like a fiend ever since that night in the car park, spoilt by the knowledge of what sex felt like, and now he cautiously wondered whether it was true what people said about Mr. Filch being a pervert and a whoremonger. 

Mr. Filch glanced over at him again, and when Severus met his eyes, he looked away hurriedly. 

His face warming, Severus let his gaze drift to the far corner of the work room, where the sofa sat. It was a long, ornate fainting couch that looked out of place among the sturdy tables and wooden stools, but had obviously been given up for scrap owing to the ugly patch on the upholstery and the nicks and scratches on its wooden legs. Severus had occasionally caught Mr. Filch napping on it during the day. 

It had never occurred to him to sit on it, any more than he would have taken the liberty of perching on Mr. Filch's desk in his office. He hadn't had to be warned; it was simply understood that while he might be on familiar terms with the caretaker, Mr. Filch was still staff and he was still a student. 

An experiment, then. 

Severus got off the stool and, for the purposes of plausible denial, stretched as though his back were hurting. Then he picked up his textbook and walked casually to the sofa. He sat down on it and then stretched out with a sigh, crossing his legs at the ankles and propping the book up on his chest. Then he waited to see if Mr. Filch shouted at him. 

Mr. Filch paused in his re-framing of a painting. He looked over his shoulder at Severus, and what started as a glance lingered. "No shoes on the furniture," he said.

Severus raised his eyebrows in innocent interest even though his heart was starting to pound, and he toed off first one shoe and then the other, letting them drop to the floor. Mr. Filch's eyes momentarily widened, and then he turned back to his work. 

What if he were wrong? Severus reached one hand into the pocket of his robes, where it curled loosely around his wand. He could get off a shot faster than Mr. Filch, he assured himself. One little memory charm and he could take it all back. Mr. Filch had a wand, but he treated it as if it were no more essential than a hammer or a screwdriver, leaving it stuck in his toolbelt, out of reach.

Licking his suddenly dry lips, Severus turned a page in his book. "What I could really use," he said, "is a copy of _The Winterbottom Letters_."

"Hmph. I'll be passing by the library when this goes back on the wall," Mr. Filch said. He could usually be counted on to fetch Severus things from the library after hours. He had a key and approved of studying.

"Thank you," Severus said. Then he added casually: "It's in the Restricted Section."

The suspicion was plain on Mr. Filch's face. "What do you need a book like that for?"

Severus shrugged. "Curiosity. It's referenced in the chapter I'm reading."

Mr. Filch snorted. "Your curiosity ain't worth my job."

Whether that was true...now that was the question. Severus stared uncomprehendingly at the lines of print in his book and drew a deep, steadying breath. He could feel the warmth in his face growing hotter. He closed his eyes briefly and got it over with: 

"If you get it for me, I'll let you suck my cock."

His tongue tripped slightly on the last word. It wasn't as though he were a stranger to coarse language, but if he had ever said the word aloud before, it certainly wasn't in relation to his own. 

Silence.

He tightened his grip on his wand and forced himself to open his eyes. Mr. Filch hadn't turned around, but he was clutching the edge of the table with both hands. 

"That ain't funny."

Severus knew that tone of voice. _You've got your money_. Mr. Filch's knuckles were bone-white.

"I'm open to negotiation," Severus said coolly, his palms sweating as he considered the possibilities. He would have to modify Mr. Filch's memory afterwards, and if he only had one opportunity, he really ought to make the most of it. "How about I let you bugger me?"

Silence again, and then Mr. Filch slowly peered over his shoulder, one pale eye narrowed. "For one book?"

Severus reassessed the price of his favours and adjusted to decrease suspicion. "All the books I want for the rest of the year."

There was another pause before the sound of slowly tearing parchment startled Severus into sitting up. 

Mr. Filch reached for a pencil. "Winterbottom," he said, his voice uncharacteristically uncertain. "That shelved under W?"

"T," Severus said. "The editor is Octavia Tripps. It'll be on the Transfiguration shelf."

It was only then that Mr. Filch turned, his face red and his mouth tight. He stared hard at Severus for an instant, and then his gaze dropped, and he grabbed his coat and keys. The door shut softly in his wake, and Severus could hear his footsteps clipping quickly down the corridor. 

Left alone, Severus sat with his hands curled around the edge of the sofa, willing his erection to ease. It wouldn't do to look as eager as he was, not if this was supposed to be a reluctant bargain, but the act of buggery had always held a perverse appeal. Dirty and secret. Postcards passed around the boys' dormitory. The language of it. Getting _done_. Getting _bent_. Severus squirmed, reaching to loosen a necktie that wasn't there.

The footsteps returned after what seemed like an eternity. Mr. Filch slipped back into the work room with the book tucked under his arm. He paused just inside and locked the door. Then he turned the doorknob. Turned it again. Turned it again. 

"I think it's locked," Severus said dryly.

Mr. Filch held out the book as evidence before setting it on one of the tables. He looked Severus up and down and up again, just like Mr. Lumley had. "Did you mean it?"

Severus shrugged. "Fair's fair."

A slow breath out. "Take your robes off?" Mr. Filch said, his voice creaking oddly.

Severus paused before reaching for the top button. It was no different than being in the shower, he told himself. Except, of course, that it was, because Mr. Filch was staring intently at him. He undid each button, then worked the robes off, letting them slip to the floor, leaving him sitting awkwardly in his pants and socks and vest. 

Mr. Filch approached and sat down close beside him. Severus could feel the warmth of his body against his bare arm and leg. There was the heavy, sharp scent of cologne, which Severus was fairly certain hadn't been there before. 

"Cold?"

Severus blinked. "No," he said, feeling rather hot as a matter of fact.

"Good," Mr. Filch said absently. Then he did a queer thing: he gathered up the lock of hair hanging in Severus's face and swept it back, tucking it behind Severus's ear. 

What came next was more familiar. A hand in his lap. Heavy breathing. He was already unbearably hard, the head of his prick poking out the top of his pants. The first touches were teasing, large fingers tracing the outline of his prick. Then the whole broad palm began to rub deliciously against him. 

Severus closed his eyes, his mouth agape. He felt the warmth of Mr. Filch's face approaching his, and then...

He had been kissed before. By Lily, the summer they were thirteen. (Dear God, what would she say if she could see him now?) She had laughed afterwards, and he'd stormed off, angry, even though she had sworn it had only tickled. He had played those stupid common room parlour games too. Seven minutes in the cupboard with Eunice Hoddle, both of them standing there in awkward silence for at least three before uncomfortably mashing their lips together.

Those had been dry, mostly chaste things. This wasn't. Stubble rasped against his cheek and chin as his lower lip was softly bitten. A tongue slithered against his own, hot and slippery. Mr. Filch cupped his jaw, pushing Severus against the back of the sofa and stroking him harder, leaving him gasping into the kiss.

His lips were buzzing when Mr. Filch drew back. He licked them and heard what sounded like a very soft growl.

"Lift up?" Mr. Filch's fingers slipped under the waistband of Severus's pants.

Severus lifted his hips as his pants were carefully pulled down. They bunched around his knees, and he kicked them to the floor. Mr. Filch's rough hand wrapped around his length, making his hips come up again, and Severus clutched his broad, sturdy shoulders.

He had always been nervous touching girls. Not that he thought they were fragile—Eunice Hoddle played Quidditch and had at least a stone on him—but he was aware that boys were supposed to push and girls were supposed to say no, and he was as discomfited by the first as by the second. This wasn't pushing, though. This was holding on tight, his hands bunching up the fabric of Mr. Filch's shirt.

"Christ, you've got a pretty cock," Mr. Filch muttered against his lips, then kissed him again.

If Severus had thought he'd be able to hold out longer now that he was experienced, he had slightly overestimated himself. His lower lip was caught once more, pressed between teeth and then _sucked_ , and Mr. Filch was pulling at his prick in long, twisting strokes, over and over, steady and inarguable until Severus was squeezing his eyes shut and moaning low.

"Shh." A puff of breath on his cheek.

The hand on his prick didn't ease up, still stroking, growing wet with the mess of his spunk. Severus moaned again, higher now, as the sensation grew to be too much, almost painful and making him shiver.

"Come here," Mr. Filch said.

Momentarily dazed from his spending, Severus unquestioningly went where he was guided, and by the time he thought to protest, he was already straddling Mr. Filch's lap and didn't trust his legs enough to move. Besides, he found himself with an interesting view as Mr. Filch started unbuttoning his trousers. Dark, coarse curls. A half-hard prick that might have given Severus a complex if he hadn't shared enough communal showers to take a representative survey. 

Mr. Filch started to stroke himself, and Severus licked his lips reflexively, watching as his prick stiffened up, red and thick. He wondered what it tasted like. Wondered if having it in his mouth— _sucking cock_ , he thought, privately relishing the words—felt as good as Mr. Lumley had made it look.

With his other hand, Mr. Filch pulled a small flat tin out of his pocket and flipped the lid off. Inside was a clear jelly. Mr. Filch dipped his fingers into the tin, gathering the stuff up. Then his hand disappeared from sight, and Severus sucked in a startled breath at the first cold touch 

If having someone else's hand on his prick had been dizzying, then having anyone's fingers touching his arsehole nearly made him stop breathing. 

"Sorry," Mr. Filch muttered, and the stuff warmed quickly as he rubbed it around.

Severus felt his face flush to the tips of his ears, and he looked down, avoiding Mr. Filch's gaze and staring at his prick instead. He wondered for the first time if this was going to hurt. People did it all the time, so it couldn't, or at least that had been his starting hypothesis. All the boys who were better looking than him but too old-fashioned to try anything with their girlfriends got up to it. So did the boys who could afford to pay off underclassmen to fag for them. If they muddled by with butter stolen from the kitchens, then certainly it couldn't hurt too much with something slippery that smelled reassuringly medicinal. 

He'd tensed up nonetheless, and Mr. Filch paused, his fingers slowing. 

"Done this a lot, have you?"

Severus swallowed hard. "On occasion," he said, grateful when his voice held steady. He certainly wasn't going to admit it was his first time, as if it somehow mattered.

The slick, patient back-and-forth resumed, and when the strangeness of it faded somewhat, it started to feel nice. Odd and embarrassing, but nice. His eyes grew heavy lidded as the petting continued, and he indulged his curiosity, reaching down and wrapping a measuring hand around Mr. Filch's prick.

Mr. Filch's breathing trembled at the touch. "Oh...there's a clever lad." 

A broad hand wrapped around his own, guiding him in a slow, squeezing rhythm. Severus's cheeks burned as the fingers at his hole grew more insistent, pushing a little now as they rubbed. Then a finger pressed into him, sliding in almost effortlessly. It felt strange. Big. It didn't hurt, but he could feel every little movement of it, and there was a funny zing of pleasure inside him as it thrust shallowly in and out. The second made his breath catch. He could feel himself stretch for it, the pressure just shy of painful. He made a small sound in the back of his throat and counted the cracks in the wall behind the sofa.

He couldn't tell if another finger opened him up, but the pressure eased, then increased again, then left him entirely as Mr. Filch gathered up more slick stuff, rubbing it all around and inside him for ages until he felt embarrassingly wet. Another dollop went on Mr. Filch's prick, slathered on with Severus's help.

Severus was taken by the hips and moved almost effortlessly, budged up as Mr. Filch slouched down. He braced himself on the back of the sofa and gasped when he felt Mr. Filch's prick slide against his bottom. The nudge that came was smoother than fingers. His arse spread for it with humiliating eagerness, and the stretch that followed made his eyes widen.

"Nearly there..." Mr. Filch muttered breathlessly.

For a moment, the strain of it was almost unbearable. Severus heard himself make a wretched sound that trailed off as the head pushed fully inside him. Suddenly, the worst of the tension uncoiled and he sank down slowly with a shaky sigh. 

"Bloody hell," he whispered, his eyes wide and his throat tight as he took it in all the way. He felt pulled open and naked on the inside, burning and wet at the same time, and throbbing where he was stretched wide. 

He buried his face against the back of the sofa and squirmed experimentally, feeling Mr. Filch's prick shifting inside him. Mr. Filch moaned, a hot, base sound that made Severus try it again. Severus's prick started to swell again, hanging heavy as the heat pooled low in his belly with every shallow dip of his hips.

Mr. Filch cursed softly under his breath and then started rubbing warm circles at the small of Severus's back. It felt wonderful, and Severus followed the rhythm of it, rolling his hips slowly, rocking back and forth on Mr. Filch's prick. The hand on his back drifted down, squeezing his bottom, then carefully traced where they were joined.

"Mm..." Severus bit his lip, his back arching.

His singlet was pushed up. A rough cheek rubbed against his chest, and he felt the flicker of a tongue against his nipple before Mr. Filch's mouth fastened on and sucked.

He cried out loudly, taken aback by the jolt of heat that shot through him.

"Shhh," Mr. Filch hushed desperately, squeezing his bottom again. "Shh, nice and quiet, all right?"

Severus nodded, but it was a hard promise to keep when Mr. Filch went straight back to mouthing at him. Mental note: that was what nipples were for. The hard sucking and soft bites made his whole body strain and rock, his prick bumping up needfully against Mr. Filch's stomach. 

"Like that, do we?" Mr. Filch asked, sounding breathless. "Gorgeous thing..." 

Mr. Filch took him in hand again, and Severus thrust helplessly into the callused grip of his fist. His vision swam, and he nearly sobbed, caught in the middle of being speared open and wanked off and sucked. It was too much. His mouth opened, but he couldn't speak, and it was hardly a minute before he was coming again, spilling over onto Mr. Filch's hand and shirt, his eyes prickling and his arse tightening up as the sensation overwhelmed him.

"All right, all right," Mr. Filch whispered, rubbing his back again in gentle strokes. Then he pushed his hips up, pressing in even deeper.

Wrung out and rendered senseless, Severus let himself be moved. He was gripped firmly by the hips and guided up and down. It seemed to go on forever, nearly soothing, like being rocked, even though every motion made his unsteady limbs tremble. Finally, Mr. Filch's eyes went glassy and his fingers started to dig in hard. A low, urgent grunt accompanied his final upward thrusts—four of them, five, six, and then a hard shiver and a faint pulse inside that Severus could feel inside. Panting breath. Pale eyes shutting, squeezing tight. 

Stillness.

Severus sagged, breathing out slowly in satisfaction as he was tightly embraced. Being hugged hadn't been part of the bargain, but he consoled himself that it would soon be forgotten, and besides, Mr. Filch's arms were too immovable to argue with. He lay like that, sprawled and spent, for several minutes, until Mr. Filch's prick eventually slipped out of him with an alarmingly wet sensation that spurred him to shakily pull back and grope for his clothing. 

Mr. Filch sat where he was, watching him, rubbing his mouth uncertainly. "You all right?" he asked.

"Fine," Severus said, pulling on his pants and then his robes. Then, after a moment's consideration, he added: "I'm incredibly thirsty."

"Thirsty," Mr. Filch echoed. He swallowed audibly, then seemed to shake himself back to his senses. "I'll get you something to drink, all right?"

Severus watched, pink-cheeked, as Mr. Filch wiped himself off with his handkerchief and then fastened his trousers.

"Stay put," Mr. Filch said and then paused, looking Severus over with a strange, wide-eyed expression. "And try..." He waved his hand vaguely. "...try not to look like you just got..."

He trailed off as Severus blinked at him in blank incomprehension, and then he sighed and pulled his coat back on, buttoning it up over the stain on his shirt before leaving.

Severus stayed put. He sat back down on the sofa and winced at the twinge it brought. He surreptitiously inspected his arse, which was, as expected, sore and sticky. He then crossed to the basin and washed his face and hands. He sat down again and turned his wand over in his hands.

"Obliviate," he murmured, his hand moving in a rehearsed jab-and-flick.

It was ten or fifteen minutes before Mr. Filch returned. There was a fumbling at the knob, clumsy enough to make Severus straighten up in alarm, but when the door swung open, it was revealed that Mr. Filch was merely balancing a large tray in his arms. 

Severus's eyebrow slowly climbed. Upon the tray sat a pot of tea, a cup of hot chocolate, a bottle of milk, a glass of pumpkin juice, a sandwich, and a large slice of leftover cake from Sunday dinner.

"Didn't know what you'd want," Mr. Filch said, looking wretched, and shuffled his feet awkwardly when Severus continued to stare. "I could get you something else."

"No," Severus said, slowly setting down his wand. "That's all right."

It distantly occurred to him that perhaps it wasn't wise to make decisions when the sweat had yet to dry on alarmingly good sex. At that moment, however, he had three rather clearer thoughts. The first was that a year-long pass to the Restricted Section, whether requested in earnestness or not, truly was an amazing deal. Second, that perhaps there were more subtle and therefore Slytherin ways than memory modification to ensure someone's discretion. And third, that he really wanted a piece of cake. 

He reached out and took the plate and the bottle of milk, and Mr. Filch all but slumped in visible relief before joining him on the sofa. They sat with several inches between them, eating and drinking in silence. Then Mr. Filch nudged closer, and when he put a hesitant arm around Severus's shoulders, Severus let him, deciding it wasn't worth complaining about. There would be time to establish some rules and set down limits later, when he wasn't so tired, and he wasn't so sore, and when Mr. Filch's embrace wasn't quite so comfortable.

Later, he thought, and closed his eyes.


End file.
